Vindicated - HIATUS
by miss.hawkins
Summary: When Peter falls in battle, Edmund takes his place as High King. But guilt is a powerful thing. With an arranged marriage and the pressures of running a kingdom, Edmund is about to lose his head. Can the most unlikely person save him? Edmund/OC, Lucy/OC
1. Preface

**Preface**

* * *

Edmund nearly lost it when Lucy suddenly curled into his side and began weeping. He had done well up until that point; neither the tortured wails of the congregation, nor the steady beat of the drums had affected him. But the instant her wet face touched his tunic… He bit his tongue and forced himself to look at the pyre.

The centaur raised the torch slowly, his deep voice reverberating through the air. "May the stars watch over you," he said, and the crowd responded in unison, "And may Aslan bring you home." Then he dropped the flame. Instantly, the pyre roared to life. Edmund could feel the heat from where he stood.

Thinking a silent prayer in grief, he awkwardly rubbed his hand across Lucy's back, not really sure what to do. Beside him, Susan rubbed her tear-stricken face and likewise clung to his chest, using him as a shield against the terrible sight before them. The young king found it difficult to keep a straight face and had to fight the barrage of tears that threatened to fall.

No. He could not-would not-cry. He had an image to maintain now. One he couldn't afford to lose.

Stiffening, he whispered, "Goodbye, Pete."

The acrid smell of burning flesh was his reply. Peter's body soon became consumed by the fire, disappearing into the black smoke that made Edmund's eyes water. At last, he looked away, unable to watch any longer.

From behind him, agonized cries echoed. Women sobbed relentlessly into the arms of their husbands. Children-who really shouldn't have been there, according to Susan-gazed up at the rising column of sparks with wide eyes, most cowering behind their mothers. The centaurs all watched in silence, the fauns' heads were bent as they performed their own hushed prayer, and one of the multiple mermaids watching from afar sang a sad lament in a voice that sent chills down Edmund's spine.

After many long moments, and when it became clear that the task had been completed, the onlookers finally dispersed and the pyre was put out. Edmund wanted nothing more than to run as far away as he could and be alone with his thoughts, but knew he couldn't. Groups immediately surged toward their majesties, offering condolences. Susan and Lucy both received these words well, but Edmund quickly felt overwhelmed.

How had Peter done it all those years? He had always made it look so easy.

It went on like that for hours, to the point where everything started to blur. Edmund shook more hands than he could count. Oddly, he was completely detached from the situation. Like his mind had soared away, leaving only his body behind to deal with the trivial matters of his subjects. Stoic and blank, his body betrayed none of the feelings that were swirling madly inside of him.

Anger. Hurt. Loss.

When the last girl, a brunette with bright eyes that seemed to change in the light from the stars overhead, finally left, Edmund didn't wait for Susan to suggest they go inside and talk about it as a family, as he knew she would. He bolted before she had even lifted her hand to brush away a tear, speeding out of sight. His two sisters watched him go sadly, knowing exactly what was running rampant through his mind.

Edmund pushed all thought aside as he streaked across the landscape, not knowing where he was going. His body seemed to have switched to automatic. His feet led him without any signs of stopping.

Eventually, he landed in a tangled heap on the far corner of the castle grounds. Sniffling, he berated himself for acting like such a baby. Kings didn't cry. They were brave and fierce. Not frightened out of their wits like he was. It was a good thing the guests had all left. If they saw him now…

He didn't know how to be a High King. Sure, he'd always been a little jealous of Peter's status. But never had he seriously wanted the position. He had seen the way it had dragged Peter down. Oh, his older brother had tried to hide the stress and apprehension that plagued him. But Edmund had always seen through the disguise. It wasn't hard if you took a moment to truly look.

No, he'd never wanted Peter's title. And now he had gotten it. Lucky him.

The tears he had been holding back suddenly sprang forward and he cried. He cried for his brother. For his two sisters. For his kingdom. For himself. As he did so, he forgot the world around him. Shuddering gasps expelled from his mouth.

And, for the first and last time, he mourned his brother fully.

* * *

**Subject:** The Chronicles of Narnia

**Rating:** PG-13

**Couples:** Edmund/OC, Lucy/OC

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the storyline and my OCs.

**Author's Notes:** Well, here I am again. My Edmund fic, as promised. Please note that for as angsty as it is in the beginning, it will get better. For those that are wondering why Edmund's character is OOC, just imagine if what has happened to him happened to you. You'd change as well. As always, **reviews are love.** Thank you. Set in the Golden Age. (P.S. Anyone who can find the hidden character in this chapter gets a virtual cookie.)


	2. An Unwanted Engagement

**An Unwanted Engagement**

* * *

Liren padded down the hallway, his tail swinging nervously. Hushed whispers followed him; servants' eyes scrutinized him. Tension marred the air. His presence in this part of the castle was not a welcome sight.

Nevertheless, the wolf continued on, doing his best to ignore those around him. He faced more pressing matters. Open stares and harsh words were nothing compared to his destination. After what felt like a lifetime, he at last arrived at the War Chamber. The two guards on duty outside threw him fleeting, angered glances, but allowed him entrance without a word.

The doors opened to reveal a long, rectangular room with a dozen torches attached to the walls. There were no windows and the entire space was bare save for a large table that sported twenty or so lords and army officers in chairs, who were speaking quietly to one another. At the head of the table, his dark eyes surveying the Council, was High King Edmund. It was to him that Liren took his news.

"Your Majesty," Liren addressed him, mock bowing on his front right paw.

Edmund's focus shifted to the wolf and he nodded. "Well met, Liren." Liren straightened. "What is it?"

"I bring report from the Wild Lands of the North, sire." At this Edmund's jaw tightened. With a slight nod from him, Liren continued, "There is a ship fast approaching our borders. The style is easily Palomyn, and, from the looks of it, could carry upwards of five thousand men. Should it continue on its course it will arrive in Narnia in less than a day."

"Why was I not told of this sooner?" Anger colored the High King's tone. It took everything Liren had to keep from shrinking back.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I only just caught sight of it yesterday evening. I set out at once and have been running for many hours. I did not stop until I reached Cair Paravel."

Edmund considered this for a moment. The poor wolf, still juvenile by his pack's standards, did shake terribly, as if he'd been moving non-stop for quite some time. "I apologize, Liren. You have done well."

Liren nodded his thanks and said, "By your leave, sire. I must notify the rest of the Guard as quickly as possible."

"Do hurry," Edmund agreed, dismissing him. Liren scampered from the room, his tail between his legs. Edmund watched him go, pride welling up inside of him. Many had been opposed to Liren's appointment to the Guard. The critics argued he was too young; too inexperienced. But Edmund had done it anyway. Liren was an excellent tracker and fiercely loyal.

Edmund wished there were ten more Lirens.

Someone cleared their throat. Edmund snapped back to the present. Lord Tezeron, a raven-black centaur, inclined his head and said, "If you are ready, sire, we shall begin."

Edmund stifled a groan. How he hated these war meetings. They were extremely dull and never seemed to accomplish much of anything. He had lost count of how many times they had ended to raised voices and banging fists without so much as a hint of a solution. Still, Edmund gave his consent and settled back in his chair.

Lord Tezeron began to speak. The room fell silent. "My King, lords and comrades, as you well know, the war with the Wild Lands of the North has taken a desperate turn. Narnia's resources are at an all-time low and our ranks are quickly diminishing."

Many of the lords squirmed uncomfortably in their chairs. They didn't need to be reminded of the state of their beloved country.

"At this point in time, communications with the Palomyns have reached a stand-still. Even under a banner of truth they will not accept our negotiators. Without parley we are incapable of discussing how best to end this war. To our luck, however, one week ago exactly we received nobles from the North, come to confer with the Council."

If the room had been silent before, it was nothing compared to now. Even those whose attention had drifted off to the walls or down to the table now raised their heads in interest. It was the first good news in months.

Only Edmund's insides hissed.

"The travelers we received," Tezeron continued, "immediately asked to go into meeting. Being that High King Edmund was away, I and several others agreed on the terms that we have our queens present."

"Forgive me, Lord Tezeron," Edmund interjected, his voice cold, "but you brought my sisters into matters of estate without me?" He had been running his yearly patrol at the time in question.

Lord Tezeron looked troubled. He knew the High King's temper well. From the other side of the room a voice spoke up.

"I do not believe that Lord Tezeron meant ill toward your judgment," offered Mr. Tumnus, always the voice of reason. The faun alone held his ground under Edmund's furious stare. Unlike the others in the room he knew Edmund as a child. Not much had changed since then. "Do not forget that Aslan gave Queens Susan and Lucy equal ruling over Narnia after-"

Edmund's expression hardened and Mr. Tumnus broke off. So close. He had been so close to saying it.

"Very well," Edmund said slowly, trying to quell the rising emotions within him. "Go on, please."

Tezeron's face clearly said that was the last thing he wanted to do, but nevertheless he opened his mouth and spoke. "Under our Queens' guidance, a treaty was managed. It took many hours, but at last we came to a consensus concerning how best to bring peace to our two nations."

Wild applause met this.

When it had died down, Tezeron, who did not look pleased in the least, said, "Tomorrow a ship will be arriving in Narnia. It bears the daughter of King Thoth, Lady Katrina. Being that she will never assume the thrown, King Thoth has offered her to Narnia as a symbol of peace. Her marriage will create a bond between Narnia and Palomyn that will bring about the end of this war. In exchange, Narnia will host the Palomyn court until the wedding, so that the officials can make sure their Lady is being well looked after. Both Queen Susan and Queen Lucy agreed to these terms, and the marriage shall take place in a month's time."

Surprise jolted through the High King. Hosting the Palomyn court? But there were more pressing matters. "A marriage?" Edmund's eyebrows furrowed. Marriages for ties were not uncommon. Even in Narnia. "To whom?"

At this, Tezeron visibly paled. "Queen Susan and Queen Lucy agreed to-"

"Who is she marrying?"

"She is marrying you, Your Highness."

All eyes went to Edmund, whose face had gone a nasty shade of red. His hands, the only white part of his body remaining, clamped onto the edge of the table, his knuckles nearly bursting. Curses rolled across his tongue, and it took everything he had to not vocalize them. Even still, he couldn't help it when he snarled, "Like hell I'm marrying her!"

How they could even entertain such an idea…

"Your Majesty, please-"

But Edmund stood up roughly and the centaur fell silent. His chair clattered to the ground behind him. The High King was shaking from head to toe, his eyes bugging out of their sockets. Short, winded breaths exploded from his mouth, like he'd just run a marathon. He looked nothing like a king of Narnia, and, at the moment, did not care.

"Where are my sisters now?" Edmund shot at Tumnus, who often acted as the two girls' caretaker. He was livid.

Tumnus choked out, "I believe in Queen Susan's chamber. Sire-"

Without a word, Edmund stomped around the table toward the door. Lords leapt out of his way, not wanting to get caught in the cross-fire. Outside the Chamber, the guards flew around as the door suddenly blasted open and the High King stormed down the hall. Servants froze as he passed, immobilized by the look on his face.

It took only five minutes to cover a distance that normally would have taken fifteen. Edmund brought his fist down on his sister's door, a room far off the main hall. _Bang. Bang. Bang._

It caught him off guard when it was Lucy, not Susan, who opened it. Her eyebrows slanted down in confusion at his appearance. "Is something wrong, Edmund?" she asked.

Edmund didn't answer, pushing his way past her and into the room. A single glance around the room told him Susan was nowhere to be seen. He turned back to his younger sister, who had closed the door behind him and was watching him suspiciously.

"What," Edmund demanded, his hands clenched tightly, "are you playing at?"

Lucy seated herself on the end of Susan's bed, folding her hands in her lap. Despite her ladylike appearance, she said in an annoyed tone, "Is something wrong _again_, Edmund?" She was used to her brother's mood swings.

"Don't give me that!" Edmund began to pace, knowing that if he didn't, Susan would have to re-decorate her room after he was done. Considering she had spent two years perfecting it, irritating him every step along the way, he wisely decided to keep his hands to himself. For now. "When were you planning on divulging your little plan?"

Lucy sighed. "Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy with me, Lucy. I'm not one of your suitors."

"Then quit yelling and perhaps I might answer." Lucy's eyes blazed.

Before Edmund could retaliate, the door opened and Susan stepped in. What looked to be a dozen dresses were slung over her arms, every color of the rainbow and design imaginable. She didn't look alarmed by her brother's presence, but rather placed the garments next to Lucy and said, "Let's hope these fit. You've gotten so tall the last few months."

Miffed that she refused to acknowledge him, Edmund turned his frustration onto his older sister. "How dare you," he seethed at her.

Susan, the picture of perfection, merely sighed and sat down next to Lucy. Her fingers worked their way through her hair, undoing the braid she had down her back. "How long has this been going on?" she asked Lucy.

"Not long," Lucy answered, inspecting the gowns Susan brought. "He got here right before you did."

"How in Aslan's name can you agree to something like this?" Edmund roared. The urge to throw something struck him and he fought to submerge it. "How?"

Susan said, "Easy. I was thinking of Narnia."

"Narnia!"

"Edmund, grow up," Susan commanded, her eyes narrowing. "I've had enough of this attitude that you've put on since-"

"Don't say it!"

"-Peter died." The words hung in the air and all three Pevensies were quiet. As an unofficial rule they tried not to bring up Peter's death. It was just too painful. Especially to Edmund, who seemed to have momentarily lost all steam.

Taking advantage of her brother's loss for words, Susan explained, "I did this, Edmund Pevensie, because I have had enough. Enough. This war has been going on for over a year now. Narnia cannot take anymore. If we continue on this path, we will destroy ourselves. That is something I will not let happen."

"So your plan is to marry me off to the family that killed him?" Edmund spat.

"Not for the reason of making you miserable, as I should hope you understand," Susan said delicately. "I had no other choice. The Palomyns were offering peace. With Narnia's present state, I had no choice but to accept their proposal. Even I have to admit it was a good one."

"Good one!" Edmund at last lost control. With a roar, he seized a hand mirror off her vanity and threw it at the wall. It shattered upon impact, coating the floor in a thin layer of glass. Susan didn't flinch or give any indication he had done it. "If you think it's so good, why don't you marry Prince Ellyion?"

Susan puckered her lips. "Don't think I didn't consider it. However, Prince Ellyion is all ready engaged to be married. In addition to that, you know as well as I that King Thoth would never agree to marry off his only son to be king of Narnia. Prince Ellyion is in line for his own thrown and cannot legally rule Narnia. As such, Lady Katrina, being the only other descendent not taking the monarchy, is the only option."

"Oh, lucky me," Edmund said sarcastically. "Real fortunate. I get to marry the tramp."

In a flash, Susan's fingers closed on Edmund's ear, dragging him down toward her; he hadn't seen her get up, she moved so fast. "Edmund Pevensie," she said dangerously, "you will _not_call that woman a tramp, or anything else degrading. She is a person. Your future wife."

"Let go, Su!" Edmund whined, morphing from High King back into a little kid. Susan's grip on him steadily made his ear go numb. "Ok, ok! I won't say it again!"

Reluctantly, Susan let go of him. Edmund sped away from her outstretched arm.

"But there's no way I'm marrying her!" he said, once he felt sure she couldn't touch him. "I'd rather die. I'd rather be tortured."

"You haven't even met her," Lucy pointed out, not at all put off by her siblings' actions. Just another day in the Pevensie family. Pulling a wine-colored dress from the pile, she hopped off Susan's bed and stood in front of her body-length mirror, taking in the cut of the fabric. "Yes, I think this will be fine, Susan."

"Try it on first," Susan instructed. "Just to be sure."

"Excuse me," Edmund growled, "but our conversation is not over!"

"It is hardly a conversation if you are yelling," Susan pointed out. "And you are marrying her. You are marrying her and ending this war. No debate, no discussion. She'll be here tomorrow, so I suggest you wipe that scowl off your face and use some manners."

"She's probably really nice," Lucy said, her face brightening.

"I don't care if she's bloody Mother Theresa! She killed Peter and I am not getting within a thousand meters of her!"

Susan's face hardened. "Oh, Ed, you're not honestly going to hold that against her, are you? You know Palomyn. She had no say in this war. None of the women do there. For all you know, she hates it as much as you do. Never forget that her family has had its share of losses as well."

"A life for a life." Edmund pushed her comments off. Before dying, Peter had taken the life of Katrina's younger brother, Rajlin, leaving the Palomyn thrown with a single suitable heir, Prince Ellyion. Edmund thought their family deserved it after taking Peter away from him.

"That's not very nice," Lucy chastised him. "Besides, I'll bet she's not too thrilled to have to marry you either." She ignored Edmund's sour face. "No, think about it. You're marrying her and then you're done. She, on the other hand, has to travel thousands of miles to marry someone she's never met before and knows hates her, leaving behind her family and friends. Compared to that, I think you have nothing to complain about."

"Shut it, Lucy."

"No, I will not!" Lucy cast the dress aside and rose to her full height. Edmund recoiled only slightly. Lucy could be intimidating when she wanted to be. "Susan's not the only one who gave her consent! I agreed to this too, and for good reason. I'm tired of people dying, Ed."

"Besides," Susan said, "Aslan agrees. After the meeting with the Palomyn dignitaries he appeared in Lucy's chamber and commended her for doing the right thing. You," she declared, poking Edmund square in the chest, "have no say in the matter any longer. Peter would have-"

Susan didn't finish her statement.

She didn't need to.

Edmund turned impassive, dropping his arms to his sides. He knew what she had been about to say. Peter would have accepted the marriage. Peter would have done what was right. Peter would have-

He wasn't Peter.

Some strangled noise came from Edmund's throat-a sound even he did not recognize. "Fine," he said in a chilled tone. The words weighed down on his shoulders. "I will marry her. But not for you or for Narnia or even for goddamn Aslan. I'll do it for Peter. And when I do, Susan, stay out of my life. Because you've all ready ruined it enough."

With that, he stalked out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Both Susan and Lucy wore similar looks of shock. Wordlessly the two sisters gazed at one another. What had Edmund just said?

Meanwhile, Edmund barreled down the hall, Susan's words replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record. _Peter would have. Peter would have._ He didn't even notice as his feet led him out onto the grounds of Cair Paravel, where a group of fauns were tending to a bed of roses. _Even when you're dead I'm still compared to you,_Edmund thought viciously, streaking past the group. They dropped their small shovels and bowed to him, but he scarcely noticed.

He stopped when he made it to where Peter had been burned. His funeral, his pyre was a ceremony reserved for only the mightiest of warriors. Befitting of a king of Narnia. Even to this day, however, Edmund could only see flames licking flesh. Could only remember smoke curling through the air. To him it wasn't a grand exit from this life. It was a way to erase the true High King from their thoughts.

He hated it.

Grateful he was alone, Edmund looked to the sky and mumbled, "What more do you want from me, Pete? I have nothing left to give."

Of course he received no answer.

"Is this what you would have done? Given yourself to the person whose family tore you apart? Would you?" He exhaled sharply. "Well, I'm not you Peter. I never will be. No matter how badly I want to be."

He stood there for a good length of time, letting his own words ring back at him, surprised. He hadn't spoken to Peter in forever. Not since that day of the funeral. He hadn't had a reason to.

Be strong. That's what Peter had always told him. Be strong for our people.

If ever there was a time Edmund needed to show a confident face, it was now. The only problem was, he had no idea how.

"For you," Edmund told him.

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**A/N: **Reviews are love :)


	3. Lady Katrina

**Lady Katrina**

* * *

Edmund rose the next day in even worse spirits. Peering open a bleary eye, he took one look at the light flooding through his window and groaned. His hands found the edges of his pillow and he pulled it over his head. Shutting out the outside world.

Despite all his prayers, despite all his pleadings, today had come. The day to meet Lady Katrina. The day, he felt certain, when all hell would break loose. And he'd be at the center of it.

Closing his eyes, Edmund breathed deeply. It was a technique Mr. Tumnus had taught him. With each inhale he recalled all the good things in his life. His family. His friends. His kingdom. With each exhale he released all the negativity he felt. His engagement. His brother's death. His feelings of loss of control. Between the inhale and the exhale he would count to ten. Ten blissful seconds of nothing. Just darkness and silence.

He had learned to live for those ten seconds.

During his fifth inhale, a knock broke his focus. His eyes snapped open. His exhale came out as a painful rush of air.

"Edmund! Edmund, get up!"

Lucy's voice did little to stem the returning tension in his body. Edmund pushed his pillow off, sitting up. His back muscles hissed at the sudden movement, letting forth a string of _pop_s as he turned toward the door. The urge to rip the wood of its hinges and tell Lucy off disappeared at her next words.

"Edmund! I mean it! Susan is coming! She says if you are not up and dressed she's coming in and doing it for you."

No further encouragement needed. For as much as his sister annoyed him, Edmund did have a slight fear of her wrath-particularly when clothes were involved. Scrambling off the bed, he streaked to the door and flung it open. Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin.

"For Aslan's sake," she cried, her fist held up in mid-air. She had just been about to start banging away again. Recovering quickly, she took in his disheveled appearance and rolled her eyes. "Oh, Edmund."

"Well excuse me for sleeping, Lu," Edmund retorted, ruffling a hand through his hair, trying to make it lie flat-a lost cause. His frustration with her remark, however, dissipated as he remembered why she stood outside his room. His eyes rapidly scanned the corridor, panicking. "How long have I got?"

"Honestly? I'd say about five minutes. She's losing her mind, Edmund. Katrina's ship arrives in half an hour, and the guest rooms are still being cleaned. If you want to live, I suggest you hurry up."

Katrina's ship.

"Well don't just stand there!" Lucy said, not understanding her brother's sudden immobile state. "Get going! I have to check on the cooks. Susan's ordered a feast for the banquet tonight." She scurried away before Edmund could ask, "What banquet?"

Edmund stared in her direction long after she left his sight. Katrina's ship. She would be here in a half hour. His…fiancée. Overtaken by a sudden need to break something, he slammed his door shut and flung himself around, sliding against it until he rested on the floor. His hands were trembling slightly.

_1…2…3…4…_ he counted, feeling air fill his lungs_. 8…9…10_. Slowly, he released it, breathing out his fury. He did this twice more before he stood up and moved to his dresser. Hoping to appease Susan's temper, he put on his best clothes, brushed his hair and placed the silver crown Aslan had bestowed upon him on his head. A quick glance in the mirror Susan had installed told him he looked presentable enough.

_Aslan, give me strength_, he prayed, slipping out of his room with stealth. His older sister was nowhere to be seen. _Probably flying about Katrina's room trying to make everything perfect_.

Estimating that he had about twenty minutes before he would have to assume his role as High King, Edmund slowed his pace. Around him servants bustled wildly. They all inclined their heads at his presence, but did not stop their quick movements as they attempted to make ready Cair Paravel. The last time Narnia had entertained anyone was long ago, before the war.

Eventually, Edmund passed the kitchen. As he did so, Lucy exited through the double doors, a muffin in her hands. Forgetting his age, Edmund reached over and plucked a large chunk off the top.

"Hey!" Lucy said, frowning as he swallowed the morsel.

"Sharing is caring, Lucy," Edmund said. The two set off for the main entrance, a silent agreement to face the Palomyn court together passing between them. "I need my strength today."

"Then get your own muffin," she said in response, holding the remainder of her treat out of his arm's reach.

They were joined at the front of Cair Paravel by Mr. Tumnus, who wore a strained expression. His eyes were wide with alarm and worry-more so than usual. No doubt the stress of what might happen today kept him on his hooves.

"Don't look so bothered, Mr. Tumnus," chided Lucy. "I'm sure Edmund will be on his best behavior."

Edmund didn't say anything, pushing open the doors and stepping into the blinding sunshine. He scrunched up his eyes and stalked forward, ignoring Lucy's reassuring words to the faun. The trio made their way down the path leading through the cliffs, toward the beach. Just off the shoreline, a ship grew steadily closer. Its three huge masts slit the sky in two, gliding through clouds. Azure waves crashed against the hull, and shouts could be heard even from where Edmund crossed the grounds toward the dock.

A welcoming committee lined the beach. It stretched from where sand gave way to grass at the castle's edge to where Susan stood poised at the end of the wharf, ready to receive Katrina. She visibly relaxed when she caught sight of Edmund.

"It's about time!" she exclaimed. Red zig-zags danced across her eyes. "I went to your room, but you were all ready gone. Thank Aslan you managed to dress yourself properly."

Though she was teasing, trying to eliminate some of the animosity between them, Edmund didn't rise to her bait. He stared up at the behemoth growing increasingly larger. His ears didn't seem to be working properly; the sound of the water hitting the ship disappeared. The smell of the salt vanished. He stepped into another world, where all thought and attention rested on the nearing vessel.

He wondered what Katrina looked like.

Fifteen minutes passed and finally the ship took port. From where he stood, Edmund could clearly see the gold lettering along the hull. _The_ _Legacy_. A wooden board appeared from nowhere, a faun setting it against the railing. At once, people descended. Dressed in finery that made Edmund internally gag, the first to greet the High King and Queens was a balding man with a dangerous smile.

"Your Majesties," he said, bowing. Light reflected off the top of his head. He turned to specifically address Susan. "May I say it is wonderful to see you again, Your Gentleness."

"As it is to see you, Avery," Susan replied, accepting the man's kiss to her hand.

The man called Avery then turned to Lucy and repeated his words, addressing her as, "Your Valiancy." Edmund didn't think that was a word, but said nothing until Avery moved on to him.

"High King, we did not have the pleasure of meeting last time I was here," he said, almost falling from how low he bent over. "I believe you were running a patrol. Luckily your sisters were here to greet me and form this union."

Lucky was the last word Edmund would have used. "Yes," he said with as much gratefulness as he could muster. "How fortunate. Welcome to Cair Paravel."

By now, a dozen men were on the dock, all attired in a similar fashion as Avery. Too much silk and frills for Edmund's taste. In between greeting them, Lucy explained they were the thirteen advisors of Palomyn. Of course they would come to make sure the agreement went off without a hitch-just because the two nations were being joined didn't mean treachery was out of the question.

The one person Edmund dreaded and anticipated seeing the most came off _The Legacy _last. She moved with even strides, her gaze locked on the colossal fortress before her. Her preoccupation with Cair Paravel allowed Edmund the chance to inspect her from head to toe.

He supposed she was pretty. Unlike the thirteen lords, she wore a simple green gown, cut fashionably but with no unneeded ruffles or pearls. Her curly light-brown hair fell to her shoulders, with some strands pulled back away from her face. A small mole winked out from beside her right eye. When she stepped onto the dock, Edmund averted his gaze, but not before catching hers. Hazel eyes. Just as he had done, he knew she was watching him, scrutinizing him, trying to gauge him.

"Ah, Lady Katrina," Avery said, reappearing with a parchment and quill. He beckoned her to them. "Your Majesties, this is Lady Katrina."

Katrina curtsied. When she straightened, Edmund realized how tall she was. They were almost eye-to-eye. "A pleasure," she said, her eyes darting to each of them in turn. She reached Edmund last, and they stared at one another.

"Welcome to Narnia, Lady Katrina," Susan greeted her at once. She, too, curtsied. "I hope you had a safe journey."

"I did," Katrina agreed, nodding her head. "Thank you."

At this point, Lucy took over. Forgoing the stiff, awkward introduction expected of her, she seized Katrina around the middle and hugged her fiercely. "Welcome to Narnia! Please, call us by our names. We are almost family, after all. I am Lucy."

Katrina didn't look at all taken aback by Lucy's actions. Laughing, she patted the younger queen on the back and said, "All right, Lucy. But only if you call me Katrina."

"Deal." Lucy let her go and looked pointedly at Edmund.

Edmund cleared his throat. "Yes, welcome." But no other civil words seemed possible at the moment, so he did not continue.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ki-um, Edmund."

"And you," Edmund said through gritted teeth.

Throughout this exchange, Avery rapidly scribbled across his parchment. Edmund briefly wondered what exactly he was writing before Lucy invited Katrina inside to see her room. Touched by an ill-feeling, Edmund suspiciously cast a glance over his shoulder as he followed his sisters and their guest back toward Cair Paravel. Mr. Tumnus and other lords immediately surged forward to help in the unloading of the ship's cargo. Ahead of him, Lucy babbled brightly, not at all put off by the situation.

"You have the most beautiful view! Just wait until you see it! It looks out over the water. At sunset you catch all the purples and oranges. Are you a painter? Because if you are, you'll want to try to capture it. I've tried, but I never seem to get all of it before the sun goes down entirely. Susan says I spend too long on the clouds. Maybe I could show you my paintings sometime? And you can show me what you enjoy doing. Do you like music? Because we have a piano. Of course, it's Edmund's, but he never practices, so I'm sure he'll let you use it anytime you want. He's pretty all right with those types of things. Except when it comes to his food. Do not mess with his toast in the mo-"

"All right, Lucy, I think she gets the picture," Edmund interjected, shaking his head.

In front of him, Katrina was laughing. "I would love to see your paintings. Maybe you could teach me. I don't actually know how to paint. Or play the piano. I do enjoy singing, though I'm not very good. What I really love is being outside."

"Me, too! Perhaps we could take a walk tonight before the banquet!" Lucy's face broke into an exalted smile.

"That sounds wonderful," Katrina said.

Susan led them into Cair Paravel and down a maze of corridors, toward the girls' end of the castle. When Peter had still been alive, the four monarchs had ruled over respective halves of the fortress-the boys over one share, the girls over the other. After his death, however, Edmund had moved his sisters closer to him, hoping it might keep them safe should they be attacked. The guest rooms, as a result, now took up the girls' side.

As they walked, Edmund kept his eyes on Katrina, trying to break her down with his sight alone. She talked to Lucy with ease, openly accepting the youngest Pevensie's animated chatter, even offering a bit of her own when Lucy stopped to take a breath. She stood tall and proud, but her hands fidgeted with the sides of her dress. Her calm, collected appearance was only skin deep-underneath she was a ball of nerves.

When they arrived at Katrina's room, Lucy opened the door and gently pushed her inside. Katrina's head did a complete rotation as she took in the canopy bed, light evergreen walls, large vanity, blazing fireplace and open balcony. Clearly Susan had pulled out all the stops.

"It's beautiful," Katrina said in an awed voice that could not be faked. "Thank you so much," she added, turning back to the three monarchs with a smile. "Really."

"Only the best for our new sister," Lucy exclaimed.

Edmund's jaw tightened.

"We'll let you freshen up," Susan said, watching her brother carefully. Though she agreed with the union, both for Narnia's sake and Edmund's-despite what he thought, she wanted him to be happy-she knew better than to push him too far too soon. The banquet acted on tradition, but forcing him to communicate with Katrina beforehand might send him over the edge. Better to get him out of the room and give him time to think. To calm down. "A servant will be up with your things shortly."

"Thank you."

"It was nice meeting you!" Lucy said as Susan practically pushed her out of the door.

"Goodbye, Que-er, Lucy."

Edmund followed his sisters. Thank Aslan Susan called for their leave, because the air felt stifling. He didn't know what prompted him to do it, but he glanced back one final time before stepping through the doors, his eyes catching Katrina's.

"If you need anything…" he said slowly.

She shifted uncomfortably. Clearly she was as confused as he was on how to act. They were engaged…but they didn't know each other. Not to mention their families were mortal enemies. Each had killed a member of the other. "I'll find someone. Thank you…Edmund." She offered him a small smile.

It hurt to return it, but Edmund did so anyway, feeling his cheeks groan. Then he hurried out of the room.

The second he was gone, Katrina let out a rush of air. Her body deflated and she collapsed onto the ground, clutching to the footboard of the bed tightly, breathing hard. In her chest her heart raced.

She could do this. She could do this.

_Be strong._

Allowing herself thirty seconds to let the rush of emotion within her loose, she put her face in her hands and attempted to relax. They would be watching. They were always watching. If she slipped up even once… She thought back to Corinne. They would hurt them both.

As if to confirm her suspicions, the door to her room suddenly opened and a man stepped in. In a flash Katrina stood up, all previous distress gone. Jutting back her shoulders, she calmed her face into an unreadable expression. _No fear_.

"That's the best you can do?" the man hissed, shutting the door behind him and locking it with barely a _click_. He stood a good eight inches above her, and doubled her weight. Spitting venom, he approached her, growing more menacing with each step.

"No, sir," she lied. "I can do better."

He got in her face, reeking of body odor. As his eyes scanned her, a tremor ran through her. Lord Duanne, one of the thirteen advisors to her father. He seemed to delight in her alarm, and he reached out, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Can you?"

Keeping her eyes straight forward, she nodded slowly.

His hand moved to her throat. Pressing down against her windpipe at the base, he lifted her from the ground, her feet swaying beneath her. "Wouldn't want everything your dear old daddy worked for to be ruined because you can't keep your nerve."

Katrina's face steadily turned darker, her lungs screaming in protest. She didn't attempt to fight him. Just let him steal her oxygen and watch her drown. Twenty seconds passed and her vision started going hazy.

He let her go. Crashing to the floor, Katrina gasped for breath, her hand flying to her throat. Every limb shook as she fumbled to retain her self-control. Instinctively her head arched back as he seized her chin, compelling her to look him in the eyes.

"You'll do better?"

"Y-yes, sir," she stuttered.

He thought on it a moment. Then he smacked her in the face. _Bang_. Her head hit the footboard of the bed and she saw stars. Pain erupted in her temples, her nose, around her eyes. Everything exploded in a flash of color.

"See that you do, wench," he snarled. Kicking her in the leg for good measure, he exited the room in a flourish, power emanating from him.

Both hands holding her off the floor, Katrina heaved, gasping loudly. The entire left side of her face burned and she could feel blood gushing out of her nose, down her chin. Knowing she couldn't get any on her dress, she rushed to the vanity, falling several times in the process as her leg gave out beneath her, and ripped open the drawers, searching. In the middle one she found a towel. Pressing it to her face, she looked in the mirror, assessing the damage.

Angry purple blotches already colored her skin, circling around her eye. Nothing a little cover-up couldn't fix. Other than that and her bloody nose, she looked relatively OK. Her leg would be difficult to mask, but she could do it.

Overall, she'd gotten off very easy this time.

She stayed like that for several minutes, scrutinizing herself, head held back as she waited for the nose bleed to stop. She had thought she'd been doing well. Apparently not.

When at last the blood stemmed, Katrina lowered the towel. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing no droplets on her dress. She'd caught it in time. Thank goodness. Wiping away the rest of the mess down her chin, she threw the bloody towel in the fire.

"Oh, I'll try harder, Duanne," she growled to herself, anger racing through her. Crouching down, she watched the flames devour the only evidence of his presence. "I'm here, Corinne," she whispered, watching it burn. "I made it. And I'm almost free. I wish you could be here."

Just then, a knock came from the door.

Katrina's blood ran cold.

"Begging your pardon, Lady Katrina," said a female voice. "I have something for you from their Majesties."

A servant. Not Duanne. Not another advisor. Just a servant. A servant she could handle.

"One second, please," she called back. Moving quickly, Katrina pulled the skirts of her dress up. There, in a hidden pocket on the inside was her compact. Grasping it, she sped back to the mirror and opened it. Rushing, she smeared the skin-tone foundation around her eye, digging into the creases, her hands working of their own accord. She could do it blind, she'd done it so many times before. Snapping the compact shut, she did one final survey of herself, then ran to the door, opening it.

The servant, a girl with mousy brown hair carrying a tan box, stepped back. "I'm so sorry, Your Ladyship," she said with a soft smile. "I hope I am not disturbing you."

Katrina shook her head. "It's fine. Come on in." And she opened the door, allowing the girl entrance.

"Thank you." The girl swept past her. "These are compliments of Queen Susan," she said, indicating the box. "Gowns to welcome you to Narnia. If it's alright with you, I'll put them away."

"Oh," Katrina said. "No, I can do it."

"Please, it would be my honor."

"Alright," Katrina conceded after a brief pause. Terror hit her as she realized the girl would pass the fireplace on her way to the closet.

The towel.

Streaking around the bed, Katrina peered into the fireplace. It had finished burning, no longer visible among the sparks and smoke filtering up the chimney stack.

"Are you alright, miss?"

Katrina turned back around only to see the girl watching her curiously.

"I'm fine," Katrina lied. She was trapped in a foreign world, forced to marry a man she did not know, all the while being watched by the advisors to make sure she didn't put a toe out of line. She'd already been beaten less than an hour into her stay in Narnia. Not to mention Corinne was back home, at the mercy of her acting abilities. Palomyn had plans for Narnia. Plans her father commanded her to accomplish.

But Katrina had her own plans.

"Just fine."

* * *

**A/N: **Ouch. Sorry about the wait. I hit a wall with this story, and I've only just re-found my direction for where I want it to go. That being said, I may have to bump the rating up on this story. There will be violence and a few other adult themes, I warn you, so if it's too dark for your liking, you may want to leave now. I hope you don't though.

I'm expecting a lot of backlash for what I've written, and I'd just like to clarify something. Before all the Sue-hunters jump on my back about giving Katrina a dark past, I'd like to say: your history doesn't make you a Sue. I've written this for a specific reason, not just to give Katrina something to cry about. It has to do with a much larger plot that will be revealed in due course. Give her a chance before you write her off just because she comes from a sexist, horrific homelife.

For those of you who don't completely hate me, I'd love to hear your thoughts about this chapter, and the story in general. As stated before, it will be dark. Heck, it's already dark. But everything I write has a purpose. **Reviews are amazing! **All my love, Brittany.


	4. The Announcement

**The Announcement****  
**

* * *

Edmund stared at his reflection, willing a vein in his temple to stop throbbing. The last thing he needed was a visible indicator that he was under pressure. The Palomyns would eat it up.

_1…2…3…4…_

Striding from the mirror to his balcony, he rested his forearms on the railing and let his head dip over. The night air settled him, gave him pause to shut off his mind and simply be. He had a headache.

The hard truth that his enemies, the people he hated more than anything else in the world, were inside the castle walls unnerved him. Edmund didn't extend trust by nature, not until those asking for it proved their loyalty. And the Palomyns had done nothing to earn his favor. He couldn't decide what was worse: the fact that he, to an extent, had willingly let them in his home, or that he was marrying one of them.

_Definitely the marriage_.

The only thought keeping him from going insane was that they were on Narnian territory. An attack from the Palomyns would be suicide on their part. They were outnumbered, outranked, and their home country sat hundreds of leagues to the North, well out of range for calling in aid.

"I thought I might find you here."

Edmund didn't look around, didn't move as Susan sidled up next to him. Vanilla scent caught his attention. Perfume. For them. What could he say? Should he even say anything? Currently Susan didn't rank too high on his list of favorite people. Enough damage existed between them already that opening his mouth might not be wise. Luckily, she broke the silence first.

"I want to talk to you."

He nodded, still not taking his eyes off the horizon.

"Edmund, look at me."

Against his better judgment, he did as she said, albeit slowly. She looked pretty as always in an emerald gown with gold accents. The circlet bestowed to her by Aslan sat on her head, striking against her dark hair, which twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her neck. The Gentle Queen eyed him carefully.

"I'm sorry."

Those were the last words he ever expected to hear from her mouth. For as kind as her reputation painted her, apologies were not a regular occurrence with Susan. He waited for her to go on.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," Susan said gradually, making sure each word came through clear. "And I've realized that not telling you sooner was wrong. Believe me, Edmund, I truly, honestly did not hold it from you to cause you pain. That _was_ never and _has _never been my intent."

"Then why'd you do it?" Edmund demanded in a whisper, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Because," Susan said, emotion clipping her tone, "I was afraid. I knew how you would take it. I knew you would hate me. Lucy helped with the decision, but you would forgive her before me. You always have. I didn't want…" She sighed. "I didn't know how best to bring it up. Part of me just hoped Katrina would show up and the whole thing would blow over."

"You actually believed that?" Edmund's brow furrowed, annoyance flaring.

"In a way." Suddenly her hands found his arm and she squeezed it. "I promise you, I meant the best. I still do."

"If you really want what's best for me, Susan," Edmund told her, not returning her touch but not pulling away from it either, "call this whole thing off. Nothing good can come from marrying her. Nothing."

"I can't back out of the agreement now, you know that."

Only then did Edmund tug himself from her grasp. Standing to his full height, he gripped the railing until the muscles in his arms screamed in protest. "Then why are you here?"

Hurt flashed across her features and she said, "I wanted you to know I regret not telling you. I regret that you must marry her, and I regret that I can't marry Prince Ellyion to spare you this. But I don't regret acting to save Narnia. I'm doing the best I can here, Edmund. What more would you ask of me?"

Edmund thought on her words. Some tiny voice in the back of his head understood and begged him to forgive her. At the end of the day, Susan worked in the interest of Narnia's people. It just angered him that after everything he had lost, after everything that had been taken from him, the last chance at a positive future was being ripped out from under him.

When did he get something for himself?

Voices rang out from below the balcony. Squinting through the dark, Edmund caught sight of two shadows making their way across the grounds. One of the pair held a candle that cast light in front of them, only gently flickering off both of their faces.

"I come out here most mornings. The gardens are absolutely breath-taking when the sun is just coming up. It doesn't look as pretty now, obviously, but along there are flower beds of every color imaginable. Mr. Tumnus takes great care of them and won't let anyone touch his daffodils. And over there is a stream, down by that ridge. Susan, Edmund and I used to take picnics on the banks. You should come along on the next one."

Katrina looked down at the Valiant Queen with an amused smile. "If you want me to. I can't remember the last time I took a picnic. I'm sure it's great fun."

"Oh, it is," Lucy assured her. "The merchildren learn to swim near there, and they're always up for games. You have to watch out for one boy, Gildy, though. He'll poke you in the eye if he gets the chance."

Katrina laughed.

Above the two girls, Edmund and Susan watched them pass in silence. Only when they were out of sight did Susan speak again.

"You could do a lot worse than her," she said.

Edmund snorted coldly. "Oh, yes. Marrying the sister of my brother's killer. Can't do much worse than that." At last he released the railing. Imprinted in his skin were crescents where his nails had dug in.

Susan deflated. "Fine. Treat her that way. Be angry if it pleases you. But know this, Edmund: if you don't forgive her, you'll never be happy. I think you could be, but only if you let yourself. She's willing to give this a try. Maybe if you do too you'll find something you didn't expect." Casting one hand out, she touched his shoulder briefly before leaving the balcony.

For a full three minutes after she left Edmund didn't move. He felt so conflicted, so _confused_. Anger clashed with sorrow, longing with duty. Groaning, he put both hands to his eyes. Being High King brought him no joy.

But of course, the universe didn't exist for Edmund Pevensie's enjoyment. Far from it.

"You can do this," he told himself. With one final wistful, fleeting look at the grounds, he adjusted his crown, took several deep breaths and departed for the banquet.

In the courtyard below, Katrina and Lucy also set out for the main hall. Zigzagging their way through the hedges of Mr. Tumnus's garden, they emerged on a stone pathway leading to Cair Paravel's entryway. Neither girl had heard a word of Edmund and Susan's discussion—the Valiant Queen's babble ensured no awkward silences.

"Are you nervous?"

Katrina nodded, stunned. No one ever asked her how she was feeling, not even Corinne. "A bit," she admitted, though for reasons unknown to Lucy. "I am ignorant to Narnian customs. It is likely I will make a fool out of myself."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Even if something does happen," Lucy reassured her, "nothing you say or do will measure up to Edmund's first banquet. The poor dryad he danced with had to see three healers about her feet. My brother isn't exactly graceful."

"That's…" Katrina struggled for an appropriate word, "comforting. I suppose."

"Not for her."

By now they had reached the double doors. The two guards stationed on either side gave friendly smiles as they passed through. Lucy handed the one nearest her the candle, saying, "Thank you."

The hall they entered was bathed in light. Flames danced in gold sconces positioned every four meters along the right wall, occasionally obstructed by a tapestry. Four guards, two at each end of the passage, stood dignified, keeping watch for any sign of trouble. A low din could be heard in the distance, the sound of music, overlapping voices and laughter. It grew louder as they neared the main hall, eventually washing out the sound of Lucy and Katrina's heels against the polished floor. When they arrive outside it, Katrina made to enter, but Lucy took her arm and steered her down a side corridor.

"Mr. Tumnus has arranged for you and Edmund to walk in together."

Katrina thought back to the dock. "He was the faun, correct? The one that looked horribly bothered."

"Yes, that's him."

Near the end of the corridor, Edmund was leaning against the wall, one leg propped up beneath him. His face hung in shadow, downturned, with only a slight sparkle of the sconces' light shimmering in his dark eyes. With the sound of the banquet just next door, he couldn't possibly hear them coming, but his head sprung up expectantly as they drew closer. Something crossed his features for a split second, then was gone.

Not quick enough for Katrina, however. Her lips parted into a smile as she smothered the look of pure hatred now burned into her memory as far back into the recesses of her mind as she could. Always the actress.

Lucy hadn't seen Edmund's expression, but she felt the strain in the air. "Hello, Ed," she said, eying her brother head to foot. "You look quite good. You could almost pass for royalty."

"As could you," Edmund retorted with a ghost of a smile. "Is that a new dress?"

Rolling her eyes, Lucy glanced sideways at Katrina. "Boys. They never pay attention. No, Edmund. This is Susan's old one. I tried it on in her room yesterday, remember?"

Edmund didn't reply. Truth be told, the extent of his recollection of the previous day stopped somewhere in the middle of his and Susan's argument. A dress seemed frivolous. Of course, now that he looked at her, Edmund thought Lucy looked beautiful in the wine colour. She really was growing up. His eyes went to Katrina's dress next. A light blue. Blue the shade of Peter's eyes. Such a colour did not belong on her.

Why did everything about her remind him of the late High King?

"Well, I should be going," Lucy excused herself, forcing Edmund's attention on her. The slight spasm in his temple returned, pleading with her to stay. Instead she kissed them both on the cheeks. "Good luck to you both. And, Katrina, relax. You'll do great." She took her leave back around the corner. Edmund heard the main hall open then close, taking with it the brief cacophony of voices inside. In its place came an uncomfortable void.

Katrina eyed the two guards situated equidistance down the corridor. Though they faced forward, eyes on the walls in front of them, hands on the hilts of their swords, their breathing was forceful. Focused. They were listening intently.

"Did you enjoy your walk?" Edmund asked, his tone indifferent. Formality aside, he didn't honestly care.

"Yes, thank you," Katrina said. "Your sister is very sweet."

"Maybe a bit too much."

"King Edmund," Mr. Tumnus said as suddenly he came around the corner, looking as horribly bothered as Katrina remembered. He wore a white neck ruffle with red trim. The faun's eyes rested on Katrina. "My Lady. I'm so happy Lucy informed me you were here. If you both are ready, I can give word to Susan to start."

Edmund nodded. "We're ready." The sooner they walked through the door, the sooner the evening would be over with. Stiffly, he held his arm out for Katrina to take. She did so.

"Very well, sire. I shall tell Queen Susan. Please be outside the main hall in two minutes." And Mr. Tumnus slipped away again.

"Are you nervous?" Katrina asked as they began walking.

Edmund barely shook his head, refusing to look at her. The entire left side of his body burned from her touch, feather light as it was. "No." He did not elaborate. Anxious was the last thing he was at the moment. They rounded the corner, stopping before the double doors.

They knew to walk in when the main hall hushed and the doors opened. Hundreds of faces loomed at them as they strode forward, Palomyn advisors dotted among the crowd. Katrina gritted her teeth and made her spine go perfectly straight, determined to show Duanne that no matter what he did, she would not waver.

Every step brought shooting pain to her leg. The walk with Lucy, as pleasant as it had been, had done little to stifle the limp she fought to hide.

Ten steps into the hall, someone had the good sense to start clapping. In seconds the entire room burst into applause, guests barely containing themselves as they bowed to Edmund and Katrina. Edmund kept his face impassive, the only non-resenting expression he could assemble, while Katrina smiled through her fear. Neither wanted to be there.

On the dais, a fourth chair had been erected—the first time since Peter's death that things looked normal. Too bad it was for Palomyn trash instead of the rightful High King. Nerves electrified by the sight, Edmund's eyes shot away from the throne, settling on a section of brick wall.

"Lords, ladies, people of Narnia and guests from Palomyn," Susan said when Katrina and Edmund had taken their seats, "welcome! As you well know, we gather here tonight to celebrate the engagement of High King Edmund the Just and Lady Katrina, Princess of Palomyn."

A deafening roar met this, nearly blasting Katrina back into her seat. On high alert, it took everything in her body to keep her hands still and face calm. Was this really how Narnia was? Friendly and accepting? Or was it just an act? Were the Narnians pretending so they could lure her and the other Palomyns into a false sense of security?

"Tonight is the dawning of a new era," Susan continued. "One in which Palomyns and Narnians can live in peace. Rejoice! This is a most special occasion. Eat, drink, and be merry. And may the stars watch over you."

The moment she stepped down from the dais, the band of musicians at the rear of the room struck a chord. From it grew a high-energy jig that prompted many to the dance floor portion of the hall. Susan herself joined in, the Palomyn man in front of her leading her swiftly through the steps. They flew across the floor, a blur of green skirts and red cape.

How like Susan to choose such a dance to start with, Edmund thought. There was no strict format for footwork, so neither party would feel inadequate. In the midst of the dancers, Edmund's sight landed on Lucy, who likewise twirled in the arms of a foreigner. Steam burst from his ears.

Then it started: a line of subjects and Palomyns formed at the base of the dais. Approaching Edmund and Katrina one at a time, they introduced themselves and congratulated them on their coming union. These words were accompanied by kisses to their hands and feet; Edmund demanded the Palomyns stop, but they didn't listen to him. Katrina smiled, but hardly spoke. The whole thing felt utterly wrong—they were royalty, yes, but Peter never allowed such a thing during his rule. He thought men should speak as equals.

After an hour of receiving lords, ladies, advisors, fauns, centaurs, and common folk, Edmund had had enough. Sensing the coming outburst, Mr. Tumnus, watching from afar, waiting for such a moment, rushed over and waved the rest of the people away.

"Aslan, I thought that would never end," Edmund complained, sulking in his chair.

"I'm surprised you have skin left after all those kisses," Katrina agreed, laughing slightly.

Normally he might have joined her. Lucy often made similar comments, pulling a chuckle from him. But he was tired, frustrated, and desperately in need of some alone time. He barely nodded that he'd heard her. Unfortunately, the banquet would run for several more hours. Alone time would have to wait.

"If you need a break from speaking," Mr. Tumnus suggested, "perhaps you and Lady Katrina would like to grace us with a dance? It is customary. I'm surprised Queen Susan hasn't hunted you down for not dancing already."

A dance? Edmund gripped the throne. No. He couldn't. He wouldn't. It was too early. They'd barely spoken a word to each other. Perhaps later in the evening, after a bit of wine to take the edge off his nerves. Or a lot of wine. Or never. Never sounded good.

"Does Lady Katrina enjoy dancing?" Mr. Tumnus asked her.

"Well," Katrina said with an amused expression, "I've never actually… I mean, where I come from… I'm not sure."

Mr. Tumnus threw a pointed look Edmund's way. Edmund groaned.

"Edmund, are you going to get out there or not?" Lucy said, appearing next to Mr. Tumnus. Red dusted her cheeks from dancing and her breathing came out in short gasps. "It's so much fun."

Feeling very ambushed, Edmund groaned quietly to himself and stood up. "Let's go," he muttered, stalking to the dance floor without waiting for Katrina to catch up. He hated dancing. He hated everything.

Katrina hesitated in her seat. Her attempt to stop the dance from happening had failed. She could barely walk, and in the time she had sat in the throne, the muscles in her leg had grown tight. Masking the pain coursing through her would be difficult. But Lucy and Mr. Tumnus were watching her, so she pushed herself to her feet, only slightly swaying. Fire licked her calves.

"Are you alright?" Lucy asked, noticing Katrina's tentativeness.

"My leg appears to have fallen asleep," Katrina lied. "I'll be fine." She hobbled her way to Edmund. He reached out to take her and she braced herself for a tight grip.

What she received instead surprised her. Despite his annoyance, Edmund touched her gently, his hands barely keeping hold on her. Surely he was strong—all monarchs needed to be to live up to the expectations of their people. So why did he hold her so carefully? She couldn't remember the last time a man had touched her without possession.

What she didn't know was Edmund didn't want to touch her anymore than he had to. Too close. They were much too close. Whose stupid idea was this again? Dancing with a Palomyn. If Peter could see him now. Of course…Peter would do it. Anything for peace.

"Ready?" Edmund said, suddenly resolute to prove he could do this and not explode.

"Yes," Katrina answered.

And they were off.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter caused me a lot of grief. Hopefully it is up to par for all of you. Please leave me a review with your thoughts :)


	5. Means to an End

**Means to an End**

* * *

Within seconds it became clear Katrina was not a dancer. The lively music called for swift footwork and strong foresight. Partners needed to anticipate what the other would do, something Katrina had difficulty with. She tripped over her own feet, Edmund's feet, the hem of her dress. Every movement caused her knees to buckle. Were it not for Edmund's hold on her—which tightened when he realized how uncoordinated she was—she would have gone sailing into the shiny floor.

"I'm guessing they don't have this dance in Palomyn?" Edmund asked before he remembered he wanted nothing to do with her.

Katrina winced as her leg gave out beneath her. Why, _why_did they have to dance? Her entire lower torso burned. She counted down the heartbeats until the dance would be over. "No, they do," she answered, her hand gripping his shoulder to keep from falling back. "I'm just not good at this."

The world around them spun in and out of focus. Beyond Edmund, Katrina saw hundreds of faces looming at her, analyzing her, watching her dance with the High King. Despite her best efforts, their dance was not going well. She would pay for that later. To spare herself these thoughts and the agonizing pain brought on by her injured leg, she concentrated on Edmund's face, farther away than was customary for this dance. Deep brown eyes that avoided hers, a strong nose, defined jaw.

The vein throbbing in his neck.

He wasn't enjoying this.

Unlike Katrina, and for his own mental well-being, Edmund kept his eyes aloft in the few inches her tall height afforded him. Long ago he'd mastered ignoring those around him, and he used that skill now, not wanting to see Lucy's small smile, Tumnus's strained expression, or Susan's thoughtful, but restrained look. Making it through the dance. That was all the mattered.

_1…2…3…4…_

"Your sister lied to me," Katrina attempted conversation. She needed a distraction. When Edmund didn't offer anything in return, she went on, "She told me you weren't a dancer either. All my hopes have been dashed."

Try. That's what Susan had told him. So try Edmund did. Clearing his throat, he kept his next spin of her closer, tired of chasing after her flailing body, and said, "I'm not. Susan forced me to take dancing lessons less than a week after I was crowned. Apparently it's unfit for a king to be heavily footed."

"I've not met Quee—Susan," Katrina said. "Not really. She seems nice." Seeing the vein give a tiny spasm, Katrina switched to a new topic. "Do the Queens here rule equally with you?" She already knew the answer, but it seemed to calm Edmund that they no longer spoke of his older sister.

"Yes."

"Does that bother you?"

Though they were mid-step, Edmund stopped, his eyebrows slanting down as he, for the first time since they'd started dancing, looked her in the eyes. "Why would you ask such a thing?" he wondered, on guard. The way she had phrased it—was she asking with an ulterior motive? Searching for cracks in the Pevensies' relationship?

Hearing a slight rumble of voices, Edmund took her up in his arms again and they were moving.

"I didn't—" Katrina fumbled for words. "I didn't mean anything by it. Just curious, is all. Where I come from…" _Crash_. Her calve went weak and she fell into him, wincing. As far as sprains went, this was by far one of her worst ones. "Where I come from," she repeated, getting a firm hold on her tone, rubbing her left eye with the back of her hand, "there are no queens. Not ones that rule, anyway. Your way of life is…strange…to me."

Edmund was still watching her carefully. That wince sounded far too real to him. More than just stepping wrong. He had seen the blood rush to her cheeks, had seen the momentary burst of pain in her eyes. His lips formed a soundless word and he pulled on her underarm, assisting her up. Still curious.

What had just happened?

"Well," he said measurably, "here you will be queen and you will rule. You'll learn. You'll see." Just then, he noticed something off. Where she had rubbed her eye, a faint hue had come about. A deep purple, barely noticeable even as close as he stood to her.

The band played a final note and the crowds applauded as the musicians called for a ten minute interlude. They dispersed into the hall, many heading straight for the refreshments table. As chatter broke out where there had previously been music, Katrina's head cocked to the side, reading his expression. Then, so quickly he almost missed it, her eyes widened in horror, in understanding, and she was curtsying hurriedly.

"Thank you very much for the dance, Your Highness," she said as evenly as she could, forgetting to call him by his name. "I had a lovely time, and I'm so very sorry about your poor feet. Truly."

Before he could respond in turn, she scampered away, out of eyesight. He frowned. Edmund liked puzzles, liked a challenge. She had been acting…oddly. Even though he had known her for only a day, he knew something was off. But he couldn't put his finger on what.

"Edmund!" Lucy's voice demanded his attention. She hurried to his side, grinning. "That wasn't so bad, was it? I mean, she wasn't the greatest dancer, but it looked like you two were getting along. I told you she would be nice, and I was right. Where did she go, anyway?"

Shaking his head, Edmund dropped his arms, which he had just noticed were still formed around an invisible body, and said, "I don't know."

Lucy looked a bit disappointed by this answer, but she quickly perked back up and, beckoning him, dragged him into the heart of the banquet, not seeing the constant glances her brother made. Glances following Katrina's path away from him.

On that path, Katrina moved with as much haste as her leg allowed. The arms of people reached out for her, wanting to steer her into _this_ conversation and _that_conversation, but she kept her footsteps forward, her focal point steady. When she made it out of the hall, she summoned her courage and asked the nearest guard the quickest way to the bathroom.

"Down this hall and to the right, third door on your left," he directed her.

Going alone wasn't smart. For as uncomfortable as the dance hall was for her, it did give her one thing: security. Duanne and his fellow advisors wouldn't dare touch her in front of the Narnians. Not with everything at stake. But out here…out here she was susceptible. There was no doubt in her mind one of them had seen her leave. The faster she moved, the safer she'd be.

Luckily, the chamber was empty. Ignoring the pots and bowls of water, she headed straight for the mirror. As she suspected, part of her left eye's make-up was worn away, revealing the damaged, colored skin beneath. It wasn't much—people behind Edmund probably hadn't been able to see it. Katrina re-applied the contents of her compact, and gave herself a once over. Nothing else looked out of place.

Then she pulled back the hem of her dress and got a good look at her leg. Beneath all the fabric of her undergarments and skirts, she could see an ever darker purple and green along her calve. The sprain would take time to heal; the color would take forever to disappear.

"Ok, Katrina," she instructed herself, taking several gulps of air. "You can do this. Just a few more hours. Be strong. It doesn't hurt that much." Her reflection's words did not feel genuine. She ached. A lot. "Just a few more hours," she said again more firmly to the mirror, snapping the compact up and stowing it.

When she exited the room, true to her prediction, Duanne stood on the opposite side of the hall, one finger digging into his ear. Beside him was another of her father's advisors, Nero. Unlike the man who'd delivered her injuries, Nero was slim, brittle by Palomyn men's standards. He had a fair mustache and ugly sneer.

Katrina didn't halt; immediately upon seeing them, she twisted into an arc, walking as near to the wall as she could, out of their reach. All she needed was to get in sight of the Narnian guards.

"I don't think so," Nero said, and his partner scuttled after her, clamping one huge hand on her shoulder before turning her around to face them.

"All I have to do is scream," Katrina reminded them as they marched her down the hallway. Her lower lip quivered, but she otherwise kept still. _Act brave, even if you don't feel that way_. That was Corinne's and her motto. _And don't ever, _ever _show weakness._

"Then you'd be a very stupid, dead girl, instead of a very stupid, live one."

Her arms pinned at her sides, they maneuvered her down the passageway. The two guards who were supposed to be on duty were talking amongst themselves, and they looked up when the three Palomyns approached. For a split second Katrina thought she might be safe, but Nero and Duanne waved them away with overly large smiles.

Eventually they found an empty servant's quarters and thrust her inside. She hit the bed, her head bouncing off the headboard. She didn't try to move as they sat down on either side of her. She could smell the alcohol on their breath.

"Almost had a little slipup, did we?" Nero said. Of the two, he possessed more brains, which wasn't much of a feat, honestly. "Almost ruined all of your father's hard work. After everything he's given you, you ungrateful brat."

Katrina kept her mouth shut.

"Oh, so we're playing games now?" Duanne joined in. His hand found her thigh and squeezed it cruelly. "And here I thought you had promised to do better."

Suddenly, he extended his arm and hit her leg. The same leg. Katrina bit her tongue to keep from crying out. No one could hear. No one. Otherwise she'd fare far worse.

"Remember what happens when you break your promises. I thought I'd already taught you a lesson. Don't want to teach another one." Trapping her face by clutching her chin with his hand, Duanne warned her, "Any more screw ups and we'll report. That girl will get what's coming to her. What'd you call her? Corina? She'll be dead by morning."

"Leave Corinne alone!" Katrina gasped through the tears that had welled up in her eyes. At once she wished she could take it back; outbursts would not help Corinne. Not with these men.

"You were given a job," said Nero. He hadn't touched her yet, and Katrina, although she hated him, found herself silently thanking him for being more reserved. "Your father has been very generous. Your marriage for her freedom. If you wish to keep her alive, do better." Seeing Duanne's hold on her, Nero pushed down his arm. "She understands now," he said patronizingly. "Don't you, bitch?"

Katrina nodded stiffly. Oh, she understood. She understood perfectly.

They left her in the room, not caring how suspicious it looked to be without her. The momentary adrenaline that had been coursing through her now dissipated, and the pain in her leg tripled. She didn't move right away; instead she curled up on the bed in a fetal position, pulling the blanket at the end over her head. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she thought of her Corinne, her darling little Corinne back home.

Home. She had no home. Palomyn was more like a prison.

Crying wouldn't help any, but she did it regardless. Mentioning Corinne usually punctured her, and she always had to sob her way to normal again. This time was no different. She felt bad about wetting the servant's pillow and sheets, but guilt soon gave way to desolation and she sobbed harder.

Five minutes later she pulled herself together, returned the blanket to its original spot, and got up. The headboard became her saving grace, keeping her from falling flat on her bum. She could barely walk, and her ungainly steps soon had her frustrated.

"Do this!" she commanded herself, pitching off the headboard. She didn't leave the room until she could walk almost normally without an aide.

When she arrived back at the banquet, both Duanne and Nero were integrated back into the crowds, their ever-present wine glasses filled to the brim. The musicians, too, had returned, and were performing a sweeping melody that inspired more than one couple to the dance floor. Queen Susan and Queen Lucy spoke animatedly to guests. It took a few rounds to spot High King Edmund in the corner, his lips moving, talking to someone Katrina could not see.

He looked so different when he smiled, tiny as the action was.

Duanne's and Nero's words fresh in her mind, Katrina set out at once to join him, indomitable in her want to keep Corinne safe. Edmund's companions became visible only a few feet away from him: two beavers.

"Ahh, and there she is, the bride-to-be!" one of the beavers exclaimed, its voice male. Hopping up onto the end of the refreshments table, he elbowed Edmund, laughing. "Just look at her! Pretty as a flower."

"Mr. Beaver, have you no manners?" the other beaver said, aghast. From this one's inflection, Katrina gathered she must be his wife. Giving Katrina an apologetic look, she continued in a sweet tone, "Never mind him. He's had a bit too much to drink tonight."

"It's fine," Katrina replied, her smile authentic. Already she could tell she liked these two. "Nice to meet you. I'm Katrina."

"Yes…Lady Katrina," Mrs. Beaver addressed her, black eyes shimmering. "It's so wonderful to meet you, dear. We've known Edmund since he was a little one. You'll do him some good, we believe."

"Yeah!" Mr. Beaver agreed. "You should have seen this bloke when he first arrived! Thought he was lost, I did." Holding his paw to his chest, he introduced himself, "I'm Mr. Beaver. And that mad one over there is Mrs. Beaver."

"Mad? Mr. Beaver, I think you need to throw that glass away."

Mr. Beaver hiccupped. "Oh, nonsense, dear. This is only my fourth. I haven't even tried the pudding dessert yet. I tell you, you can't have chocolate without—" _hic_"—a bit of wine. One more helping of supper and I'll be right as rain."

By now, Katrina was laughing. Something about Mr. Beaver's demeanor led her to believe he was often silly, even while not intoxicated. She looked to Edmund, expecting to see him laughing as well. But he wasn't. He was watching her. Inspecting her eye, which for some reason looked a bit puffy and red, but no longer tinged purple.

Maybe he had been seeing things.

"That's enough of that!" And Mrs. Beaver promptly seized her husband's glass and tossed the contents of it in a nearby potted plant, much to Mr. Beaver's anger.

"Dear! I wasn't—" _hic_"—finished with that!"

"Oh, yes, you were! Mr. Beaver, please get off the table."

Katrina had turned to watch the Beavers sort things out, and didn't hear or see Edmund move next to her until his words were at her ear. She sort of bent back; alarmed that maybe Duanne and Nero had come back with more threats.

"Are you having a good time?" Edmund asked, grinding his teeth. Neither of the Beavers heard him, too caught up in their efforts to evade what the other wanted.

Knowing her voice might betray her, she nodded. "And you?"

"Of sorts."

Well, at least they had tried. For the next hour they exchanged simple pleasantries, dispassionate as they were, all from a sense of duty. Twice more they danced (Katrina not stumbling once, she was so angry). Edmund wanted to leave; to run and never look back. But Susan's words kept ringing back on him. _Try_. Katrina, likewise, wanted to be free of her situation. Of this. But she had Corinne to think about. She had her future to think about. So try they did, oblivious to each other's reasons. The only topics they both steered clear of were Peter and Rajlin.

Their talk turned to Aslan.

"But who is he?" Katrina asked, as a Narnian man kissed her hand and congratulated her on her engagement. This kept happening in sporadic clusters of people; they'd come and give their warm words, then it would be a solid ten minutes before the next group realized their future queen and current king were together.

Edmund sat atop one of the steps leading to the dais. He'd never admit it, but Katrina was actually interesting. She kept her head up when she spoke, and she had an opinion on everything. She was intelligent.

But he still hated her.

This marriage was a means to an end. Nothing more.

"Who's Aslan?" he echoed her. By the curiosity in her eyes, he realized she was actually asking. "You don't know?"

"…no. We don't have Aslan where I come from. At least, I've never heard of or seen him."

"Aslan," Edmund started. He swung both arms out, motioning to the entire hall, "Aslan is. He's everything. Everywhere. He created the world, created Narnia. Created Palomyn. He gave voice to the animals and life to the people. He saved Narnia from destruction. He saved—" Edmund almost said _me_, but caught himself at the last moment, "—all of us. He's the real High King. Standing in his presence…you don't know what that's like. You feel better. You feel safe. He's everything that ever was. Everything that will ever be."

"So where is he?" Katrina asked next, unsuccessfully wrapping her mind around this Aslan character.

"Gone. Somewhere. I don't know. He doesn't always show his face. Not unless we need him. He appears to help, but doesn't stick around."

"Why would you need him?"

Edmund's mind went shooting back to his youth. To when the White Witch tempted him. To when he betrayed his family. To when Susan, Lucy, and Peter had almost died by his hand. To when he felt alone, unloved, forgotten. To when everything was crashing down.

"Everyone needs him," Edmund said seriously. "Everyone."

Katrina didn't know what to say. She needed this Aslan guy, if he was all she'd heard from the Narnians. But she sincerely disbelieved he was out there. How many times had she needed help in the past? And how many times had her prayers gone unanswered? Aslan couldn't exist. Either that or he very much hated her.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. More dancing, more talking, more kisses from the crowds. Edmund and Katrina lost count of how many hands they shook, how many names they had already forgotten. It was well past one in the morning when they at last staggered to bed, Edmund walking Katrina to her room at Susan's insistence.

As they approached her door, Edmund began to fidget. What was customary for this? A kiss to the hand? A simple goodbye? He didn't want to touch her. Didn't want to go that far quite this early. He'd barely contained himself tonight. No use in pushing things any more.

"Well, goodnight," he said flatly when no idea presented itself. He grimaced at her—a failed smile attempt—and turned to go to his own bedchamber.

"Edmund?"

He looked to Katrina.

She struggled with her words. "Aslan. Does he ever not come?"

Peter dying. Peter dying, Peter dying, Peter dying. His blood mixing with dirt, Edmund screaming at the top of his lungs. No, no. Not his brother. Not the great High King Peter. Not dead, not dead, not dead.

Yes, dead.

Edmund swallowed and stalked away, but Katrina heard his answer even at the end of the hallway.

"Yes."`

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**A/N: **As always, review! :) Please. I'm catching up with my review replies now. Thank you to the flood of people who added this to their favorites and story alerts in between now and my last update.


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